


On a Sunday

by out_there



Category: Sports Night
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-11
Updated: 2005-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey attempts to cook breakfast while Dan proves his knowledge of Andrew Lloyd Webber lyrics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> This is all [](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/profile)[**phoebesmum**](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/)'s fault (and she proof-read, so all the mistakes are her fault, too). She was the one who combined Andrew Lloyd Webber and SN in the same thought; I'm totally innocent.

Casey shifted the bags in his hand, searching for his keys. He did the panicked 'about to drop the eggs' jig, and then flowed into the 'balancing the groceries and wishing for a third hand' two-step. Somehow, he managed to get the key in the door, then shifted hands to be able to turn it, and used a quick knee to push it open. All in all, it was a feat of physical co-ordination. Nice to know his years on the gymnastic team hadn't gone to waste.

"... Take me to a zoo, that's got chimpanzees ..."

Casey paused for a moment, and then recognised the sound. It was Dan singing in the shower. Singing the way he always did when he was happy, loudly and just a little off-key.

"... Tell me on a Sunday, please ..."

Casey dumped the groceries on the counter, and then went back to close the door. As he headed into Danny's small and efficient kitchen, the unaccompanied musical performance got louder.

"... Don't want to know, who's to blame ..."

The singing stopped for a moment, and Casey had the sudden mental picture of Dan brushing his teeth, humming along to the tune under his breath.

Then his mind wandered to the idea of Dan in the shower, wet and naked with water dripping down his skin ... and those were not thoughts that were appropriate to Sunday morning. They were certainly not thoughts Casey should be having while trying to cook. That way led to embarrassment, overcooked frying pans and painful burns.

Casey knew that from personal experience.

"... It won't help me knowing. Don't want to fight, day and night. It's bad enough you're going ..."

Casey shook his head and grinned. When Dan was happy, he was certainly vocal about it. Then again, Dan was pretty vocal about being upset, too. In fact, the only time Dan wasn't talking was when something was very wrong. Otherwise, Dan made his feelings clear. Wore his heart on his sleeve, there for anyone to see.

"... Don't leave in silence, with no word at all. Don't get mad and slam the door, that's no way to end this ..."

That wasn't exactly true, Casey amended as he stirred the scrambled eggs. But it was true that Dan made it easy for Casey to see, that Dan didn't hide from him. He wasn't like Lisa, using half-explained arguments and punishing silences, to always keep him confused and at arms' length.

Dan definitely used them, but ... He didn't do it to shut Casey out, he did it to force Casey to ask. To force him to pay attention. Like he should be paying attention to the toast that had managed to get stuck and was quickly blackening.

Casey cursed, and unplugged the toaster. He flipped it upside-down, shaking it until the toast fell out.

"Hey."

Casey spun around, toaster in his hands, and smiled sheepishly. "Hey." Dan stood there, watching him warily. "I thought you were in the shower."

Dan stared at him, his hair dark with water. "I was." The towel wrapped around his waist supported the shower theory.

Casey shrugged, still holding the toaster guiltily. He placed it back on the counter. "I thought I'd have more time to make breakfast."

Just one corner of Dan's mouth quirked up, but his eyes were happy. "You want a hand?"

"No."

"No?" Dan shot a pointed look at the charcoaled toast. "Sure?"

"I'm sure," Casey replied, and then realised the eggs were starting to burn as well. He frowned and started stirring them earnestly. "I wanted to make you breakfast."

Dan grinned. "You wanted to make me breakfast?"

Dan always said Casey was a bad cook. It wasn't that he was bad exactly; it was just that he didn't have much experience. His mom cooked at home, and no-one cooked at college. Then he was married and the kitchen was Lisa's domain. As a single guy, it was far easier to eat out.

"One crack about my cooking skills, and you're cooking your own," Casey replied tersely, trying to scrape the burnt bits off the bottom of the frypan.

Dan stepped up behind him, and turned off the cooker. "I have a better idea," Dan said, pulling the frypan out of Casey's hand and away from the heat. "How about I cook breakfast later, and you have a shower now?"

Casey sighed, but didn't have the heart to be really upset, not when Dan was wrapping his arms around Casey's chest and lazily kissing his neck. "Yeah. Burnt eggs, burnt toast. You'd probably do better than that."

"Hey, there's a very attractive guy kissing you and offering to cook," Dan mumbled against his skin. "I don't think that warrants such a disappointed tone."

Casey snorted, but couldn't deny that Dan was right. "It's not that I don't appreciate the offer." Leaning back against the solid warmth of Dan behind him, Casey gasped as Dan bit down lightly. Casey stretched his head to the side, allowing Dan easier access. "It's just that I wanted to cook breakfast for you."

Dan tightened his arms briefly. "It's the thought that counts."

"But the food would have counted more," Casey griped half-heartedly.

"You went to the hassle of sneaking out and buying it. That counts, Casey."

Casey smiled. "So, I should go have a shower?"

Dan pressed a kiss against the back of his neck, making Casey shiver. "Yeah."

Patting Dan's arm, he pulled out of Dan's hold. "I'll get out of your way."

"Didn't I mention it's a shower for two?" Dan grinned seductively.

"I don't think you did."

Dan stepped forward, pressing himself against Casey. "I'm cooking breakfast *much* later."

"I'm a bit hungry," Casey said slowly.

"You can't wait?" Dan asked, rubbing small circles against Casey's lower back.

Casey grinned. "I can wait a little while."

"Good," Dan said, but just stood there, warm and barely dressed. He stared at Casey, and licked his lips, and Casey suddenly wondered if they'd even make it to the bathroom.

Casey swallowed. "Does this mean I get to hear the end of that song?"

Dan hummed half a line and then started singing, "Take me to a park that's covered in cheese." Dan winked at him and Casey chuckled. Winding arms around Casey's shoulders, Dan leaned in to croon softly, "Tell me on a Sunday, please."


End file.
